Kill you Dead
by Queen of Crystallopia
Summary: SPOILERS FOR SPIDER-MAN HOMECOMING. The plane crashed. His plan was foiled. But instead of a desperate last attempt to grab whatever he could and escape, Toomes decides to fulfill the promise he made to Peter in front of his school. After all, he's a man of his word, and he promised Peter he would kill him dead. A What if story
1. Chapter 1

_So I am officially obsessed with this movie, and with MCU's Spiderman, and after seeing Homecoming for the third time tonight, I had to write out this little what-if. Obviously, spoilers if you haven't seen the move. This picks up during the final battle on the beach._

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing._

 _Warning: Contains violence and torture and mild language_

* * *

The razor sharp tip of Toomes's metal wing is coming straight at me, but I am too dazed to do more than watch it come. Just as I think it will impale me straight in my throat, it jabs just to the right, slicing easily through the hood of my costume.

My body is rising, and then I am dangling in the air, hardly able to keep my eyes open. God, if everything would just _stop spinning_ for a minute, I could…I could.. _._

There's a moment of silence, like he is hesitating, or distracted by something, and then his fist is colliding with my temple, and everything goes black.

* * *

Consciousness comes slow, and it is a claustrophobic and painful process. I am aware of all the aches making themselves known as I fight to emerge from the darkness. A breathy groan escapes my lips, and I reach to rub at my heavy eyes. Or at least, I try to. My arms don't move, and for a moment I think I am still underneath the debris of the collapsed building.

Panic makes my heart beat faster, making it easier to claw my way out of the black. And once I open my eyes it takes no time at all to realize why I can't move my arms. Tarnished metal bands at least an inch thick and several inches wide encircle both of my wrists, and, I notice a moment later, my ankles as well, pinning me to a large metal table that looks like some kind of workbench.

I take a deep breath through my nose. I can get out of this. I pushed my way free of a collapsed building. I tell myself these cuffs will be cake.

Except when I pull as hard as I can, they don't shift an inch. I try again, my overworked muscles straining. Nothing.

"What the hell?" I pant, my head falling back to rest against the table.

I sense his presence a moment before he speaks. "Hey, there he is. For a minute there I thought I hit you too hard, and you weren't going to wake up. That would've been pretty disappointing."

I turn my head. Toomes strides across the room, his footsteps echoing loudly. He looks awful, covered in sweat and smoke and bleeding from several cuts. As he nears, I can't help but try to fight against my restraints.

"Oh, I wouldn't bother, Pedro. You won't be getting out of those anytime soon. After you crawled your way out of the warehouse I dropped on you, I figured I better pull out the big guns. Those are magnetized metal cuffs, courtesy of your patriotic buddy and Ironman himself. Doesn't matter how strong you are, you're stuck good," Toomes takes off his jacket and tosses it to the ground.

Behind him are heaps of junk I recognize as what must be left of all the stolen weapons and technology, and there are tables covered in them. My mouth goes dry.

"Where-" my voice is hoarse, and I try to swallow, but my throat is ravaged from all the smoke. "Where are we?"

"Safe house of mine. You see, when you run a business like mine, it's good to have a few places staked out in case morons like you come sniffing around," he flings out an arm. "This is what's left of my empire, thanks to you."

His voice darkens, and my stomach tightens at the sight of his eyes, simmering with pure rage. Then his hand is on my throat, squeezing, and I am unable to breathe. I thrash as much as I can, but can do nothing as he chokes me.

"I warned you," Toomes growls viciously. "I warned you what I would do to you if you interfered again. But you didn't listen, and you cost me _everything. Everything!"_

His voice raises to a shout, his fist squeezing my throat tighter, and god, my chest is on fire and I just need to _breathe_ -

Toomes releases me abruptly, and I gasp for air, choking and wheezing. He's panting, looking entirely unhinged. "That job would have set my family up for the rest of our lives, and because of you, I have nothing. I told you I would do anything for my family, and I meant it. I meant every damn word. Including how I am going to kill you, Peter. But not before I make you suffer, like my family is going to suffer."

He turns, stalking towards one of the tables laden with weapons. He picks up a twisting metal rod, and when he faces me again, his face is incredibly calm. And I am instantly terrified. Oh god, this man is going to torture and kill me, and no one even knows where I am.

The realization slams into me. Because no one is coming. I have no tracker, no phone, no Karen to help me, no back up to call, and no way to be traced. Even if Ned miraculously gets a hold of Happy or Mr. Stark, they have nothing to go off of, no leads, nothing. I could be anywhere. Anywhere, and-

Toomes presses something on the weapon, and the tip of the rod sparks and crackles with blue electricity.

"Kid, this is going to hurt."

"Wait, wait! Wa-"

White hot pain bursts in my shoulder as he jabs it into me, sending agonizing currents shooting down every nerve of my body, and I'm screaming and writhing, The pain is even worse in every single place my body has contact with the metal, and it's unending.

Toomes yanks it away, and I collapse, panting and half sobbing. I have a second's reprieve before it's jammed into my stomach, and it starts all over. Again and again and again, and all I can see is his wild eyes and clenched teeth, and all I can feel is pain.

He tosses it suddenly to the ground. "You could have spared yourself all of this, you know. You could be at that dance right now, drinking punch and chatting with your little friends and dancing with my daughter. Instead, we're here, and I have nothing left to lose."

Toomes steps away, and as I lay panting and trembling, I hear him rummaging carelessly through more weapons.

My body is pushed far beyond its limits between my earlier encounter with him, the plane crash, and the electrocution. Everything hurts, and all I want is to go home. I want my room, my bed. I want Aunt May. My vision blurs, and hot tears are spilling onto my face. She's going to be so devastated when I never come home. Will Toomes get rid of my body, or make sure it's found as a warning to any other would be hero?

 _I will kill you. I will kill you and everyone you love. Kill you dead._

My heart lurches in my chest. It won't matter what he does to me or my body when he's through. Because when he's done, he's going to go after May. Her fear filled face fills my mind, and it hurts worse than any torture. No, _no-_

"Ah, here we go."

I clench my teeth as his face appears above me.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Pete. But I found a good one. Hold still, for me, yeah? Wouldn't want to kill you too early."

Aunt May is all I can think of, and all I can do is scream.

* * *

I don't know how long he's had me for. I stopped being able to tell the minutes from the hours in my state of constant agony. My mind is nearly blank from the pain, and I can't believe my heart hasn't stopped beating yet.

Toomes's rage is endless, as are his supplies, despite them being the last remnants of his work. Maybe he's recycled some of them. I can't tell them apart much anymore. I don't even care that I've been begging and pleading and crying like some little kid. In this moment I am just a kid, and I can't even drudge up the shame I would feel if Mr. Stark could see me now.

" _And if you die? Well, I feel like that's on me."_

I close my eyes. I really hope he won't beat himself up too much when my body surfaces. Maybe he will stop Toomes from going after Aunt May. Maybe that will ease his conscience. Because really, none of this is his fault. This is all on me, Mr. Stark. All on me.

"Hey, don't go dying on me yet, Pedro."

His hand is roughly slapping my face, and I have to open my eyes. His expression oozes satisfaction, but I can still see the fury simmering beneath it. He isn't done with me yet.

Toomes smiles. "Still with me? Good. I got one more thing I want to try. Wait here."

His footsteps echo, and a door slams shut.

It's hard to breathe, but I let out a small sigh of relief that turns into a wheezing groan of pain. I let my head fall to the side and stare at my right wrist. The skin beneath the cuff is raw and slick with blood. My stomach churns at the little I can see of it.

And then my mind halts for a moment. Halts, and restarts again as something like hope blooms in my chest. _Slickwith blood._

Gritting my teeth, I begin twisting my wrist, pulling down instead of out. I bite back the cry of pain the movement causes, because my hand slides just the slightest amount. Eyes wide, my breath coming faster and faster, I twist and pull with everything I have, my wrist tearing even more.

But it doesn't matter because my wrist is moving, and I can see that Toomes didn't bother taking my web shooters, either because he was that confident in his magnetized metal cuffs, or his rage made him sloppy.

I am filled with adrenaline, and it's starting to push back against the pain my body is in. Almost there, almost-

My heart is thundering in my chest. I can hear Toomes returning, his footsteps coming closer and closer.

The door opens, and I still instantly.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, kid. I hope it was a nice little break for you to reflect on your short, miserable life."

I turn to look at him, and he gives a little smile. A large gun rests in his arms, and I can see beneath all the wires and pieces of metal there is a purple glow. Figures he would kill me with one of the purple glowy things.

Toomes stops a safe distance from the table I'm lying on. "There's not much left of you to torture, so I thought this would be a good way to finish you off. Don't worry, it shouldn't kill you outright. I've lowered the power enough to make it nice and slow."

"Please," I rasp. "Don't do this."

"It's already done."

Toomes raises the gun, aiming down at me. His finger moves to the trigger, and my hand slides free. I raise myself up as much as I can and fling out my arm, pressing down on the release of my web shooter.

My aim is miraculously accurate, and as soon as my web clings to the weapon I am yanking it from his arms. Toomes's eyes are wide with shock as I catch the gun in my free hand and take aim.

"Don't worry, it shouldn't kill you outright," I say and fire.

The weapon recoils sharply as purple energy shoots out and blasts right into his chest. He goes flying back, his body slamming against the far wall. He falls and does not get up.

I drop the gun, breathing heavily. My body is shaking, badly, and it is an effort not to let myself collapse against the table and pass out. I work my left wrist free, and it's faster but not less painful with my right hand helping it along. My ankles are much more difficult, and in the time it takes to get completely free of my bonds, I am terrified Toomes will get up and finish me off.

But he remains where he is, and I am free.

I swing my legs down and grip the edge of the table. I am only able to take one step before my legs give out, and I collapse onto the cold floor. My body was done, it had given all it could give. I stifled a sob. I thought once again of Aunt May, who was probably sick with worry.

"Come on, Spiderman," I urge myself breathlessly. "Just a little more, then I can rest. Then I can be done."

It takes a long time and no small amount of effort to get myself standing, but I am up and half limping, half shuffling to the door. I reach Toomes, and see his chest rising and falling. For an added measure, I raise a trembling hand and trap him in enough web to make sure he doesn't go anywhere when he wakes up.

I go to the open door, and relief blooms in my chest. Toomes's phone lays before it, the screen cracked. I pick it up and lean shakily against the threshold for a moment to catch my breath, one arm around my middle.

I thumb the button, and when the screen lights up, I stare. A picture of Liz with her mom fills the screen, along with numerous missed calls from each of them. I swallow thickly and push any rising emotion away. I need to focus. I need help.

My brain is foggy with pain and exhaustion, but I can still remember Happy Hogan's number. I text and call him often enough it is permanently cemented in my mind. It takes multiple tries to get my trembling, blood soaked fingers to press the right numbers, and then I am raising the phone to my ear.

It's ringing, and distantly I realize I am slowly sliding to the floor.

"How did you get this number? Who is this?"

I close my eyes at the sound of his voice. "I-it's me."

But it certainly doesn't sound like it with how hoarse and rough my voice is. It must somewhat though, because Happy is saying, "Kid?! Is that you? Where the hell are you?"  
"Don't know…I-I need help."

"Are you hurt?"

"…yeah," I open my eyes and turn my head towards the stairs to my right. "I don't think…I can move anymore."

"Hang tight, kid, we're tracing this line right now. How bad are you hurt?"

My eyes are impossibly heavy. Any trace of adrenaline is completely gone, and my body is just done. "Bad."

"Shit," he curses, and his next words are muffled like he's speaking to someone else in the background. "Keep talking, ok? We almost have your location."

"…okay. Sorry Happy."

"What the hell are you apologizing for?"

"Moving day… didn't go like you wanted it to."

He laughs incredulously. "Yeah, you could say that… We got it! Tony's on his way right now to get you, kid. Hang on."

"Awesome…thanks Happy," my arm is getting weaker. I don't think I can hold the phone up for much longer. "I might…I think I'm going to pass out soon."

"Hey, hey don't do that," Happy's voice is sharp. "You keep those eyes open, you hear me?"

"Ssorry," I rasp, my eyes dragging towards Toomes's unconscious body. I really hope he doesn't wake up.

"Who? Who's with you, kid? Is it Toomes?"

I must have said the last part out loud. "…yeah. He's out…I knocked him out. He- Liz. Poor Liz…she's going to be…devastated."

Happy's response is muffled, and I look down to see the phone slip from my lax fingers onto the floor. I try to stay awake, I really do. But everything blurs, and my chin hits my chest. I think I hear some kind of explosion, but even that isn't enough to keep my eyes from rolling back, and then I know no more.

* * *

 _So there you have it! Yes, for those of you who end up reading this, I will be writing a second chapter. Please review and let me know what you guys think!_


	2. Chapter 2

Something cold and metallic is pressing against my neck. It takes every ounce of my willpower to fight against the darkness drowning me, but I have to wake up. There are hands on me, and I immediately think of Toomes. He's woken up, and he's going to really kill me this time.

My hands react before my eyes do, and I am gripping Toomes's wrists with strength I didn't think I still had.

"Easy there, Turbo, it's just me."

My eyes pry open.

I blink once.

Twice.

The grey spots slowly dissipate, and I am looking into Iron-man's metal face. It is his gauntleted wrists I am gripping so tightly.

"Oh," I say, and my arms drop to my sides. "H-hey, Mr. Stark…Sorry, I thought-"

"No harm done. That's quite the grip you got there, considering you look like absolute shit," he says, his voice slightly muffled and mechanic sounding through his helmet.

My lips twitch into a small smile despite it all. If I look as bad as I feel, Mr. Stark is being generous.

"There he is. Ok kid, I got to get you up now, kay? That's it, nice and easy."

A groan slips from my mouth as his hands slip under my armpits and ease me to my feet. The moment I am standing, my knees buckle, my limbs feeling like jello, and pain spikes through every raw nerve and open wound.

"Geez kid, what did he do to you?" Iron-man's voice is light, but I can hear the tightness beneath it. He catches me before I fall, one hand moving underneath my knees, the other sliding behind my back.

I can't even muster up the humiliation I should feel as Iron-man holds me bridal style. Damn it, I must look like an absolute damsel in distress. But I am too relieved that the nightmare is over, that someone is here, that I might actually live through this.

My relief is so profound, so deep, I immediately go limp and start to slide back into the darkness.

My body jostles violently as Iron-man takes off with a sudden lurch. I cry out in pain, but stay limp in his arms. Wind rushes through my hair and dries the blood on my face and chest.

"Sorry, kid. Gotta get you some help. Think you can stay awake for me?"

"…No…" I say apologetically. I can't even open my eyes.

"That's a damn shame. Thor's flying right next to us, and I was going to introduce you, but you go ahead and nap. I'm sure he has better things to do, like show up for his Pantene hair commercial, or return to Asgard for an undoubtedly ridiculous party involving all sorts of medieval looking cosplayers or LARPers or whatever you wanna call them."

My eyes pry open. I squint against the wind, seeing nothing but the red and gold glint of Iron-man's chest, and the cloudy night sky, tinted orange from the city lights.

"That was…a dirty trick."

"Was it? I could have sworn he was just here. Is that a flash of lightning I see in the distance?"

"Y-you're a terrible liar, Mr. Stark…No offense."

"None taken."

The wind is too harsh on my face to keep my eyes open long without my goggles or mask. And despite my best efforts, and Mr. Stark's, I eventually slip back into unconsciousness.

* * *

A steady beep and a rapid tapping sound greet my ears when I wake. I feel remarkably better than the last time my eyes opened, but I am groggy, my limbs are heavy, and my head is swimming.

I slowly open my eyes, and when they finally focus, I see Mr. Stark sitting in the chair beside my bed.

My hospital bed.

I glance down briefly, taking note of the many bandages, patches of gauze, wires, and monitors. I am sore, but it is completely bearable. Somehow I am feeling light as air and heavy as a freight train all at once. I look back at Mr. Stark, who's staring off towards the doorway, his fingers drumming rapidly on his knee.

He looks back at me and jumps slightly, his fingers stilling. "Jesus, kid. Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"It's a common courtesy that when you wake up from being unconscious, you tell someone you're awake instead of staring at them until they notice you. You scared the shit out of me," he rises, peering at my face. "Damn, how many drugs did they put in you? Your pupils are insanely dilated."

I blink. "Dunno. Feels like a lot. I feel like… like I'm underwater."

"That's probably a good thing. Toomes did quite a number on you. Are you in pain?"

"No…I don't think so. Maybe, just a little sore. It's sort of hard to think straight."

Mr. Stark scoffs. "It better be. You're higher than a kite at the moment. You're lucky. The only thing anyone around here will give me is coffee and aspirin, and those only go so far."

"Where is here, exactly?" I ask, blearily realizing I have no mask, and this definitely looks like a hospital room. Albeit, the nicest, most high tech hospital room I have ever seen.

"Avengers compound," Mr. Stark says, reading my face. "Don't worry kid, your secret's safe. Everyone here can be trusted. You're in good hands."

"Oh. Good," I look down at my hands, at the thick white bandages around my wrists. I know they are the least of my injuries. "Toomes…is he-did you-"

"Adrian Toomes is behind bars, awaiting trial. Although it will probably be awhile, considering how long he has to recover from his injuries."

I frown. Injuries? Had that alien weapon hurt him that badly? Liz's face flashes in my mind, and I feel queasy. "What-"

"He resisted arrest."

"Wait, what?"

I look up at Mr. Stark's face, which is darker than I've ever seen it.

My brows narrow. "He was unconscious, and trapped in my webbing. How did he-"

"After I dropped you off here and made sure you were stable I flew back to get Toomes. Like I said, he resisted arrest," Mr. Stark's tone brooks no argument. He was able to read the thoughts on my face, and I feel like I might be able to read his. And I don't think Toomes was able to resist arrest after the shot I fired at him. Which means Mr. Stark had-

My eyes suddenly notice the bruising and dried blood on the knuckles of his right hand. I am overwhelmed with the thought that a man like him would do...that on my behalf. Mr. Stark notices my stare, and before he can speak again, I open my mouth.

"Mr. Stark, I'm sorry," I begin in a rush. "I'm so sorry for everything. Your plane-all that equipment, for getting myself captured. I-"

He holds up a hand, cutting me off. "Okay, here's where you stop apologizing. You screwed the pooch, kid, there's no denying it."

My stomach lurches.

"You also saved my ass. And a lot of other asses. You stopped Toomes from taking some very irreplaceable items and selling them to some really bad people. You stopped a plane from crashing into a very populated area, something we are definitely talking about in detail later, by the way. You did good. And you have nothing to apologize for."

"He…he knows who I am," I say in a small voice, unable to meet his eyes. Instead I stare at the bruises I can see peeking out from underneath my bandaged wrists.

"You told him?"

"Well, no, not exactly. He...figured it out," I admit.

Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow. "How'd he manage that?"

I squirm uncomfortably. "Um...my date, to homecoming, he's sort of her dad. He gave us a ride to the dance. And uh- he recognized my voice. Liz, she kept talking about all those times I disappeared...and he pretty much was able to put it together."

He stares. "Damn. That's...unfortunate."

"Unfortunate?" I look at him skeptically. "That's the word you'd pick?"

"No? Okay then, how about disastrous? Cataclysmic? Hapless? It sucked balls? Any of those work better?"

"You don't seem to be taking the fact that a _really_ bad guy knows who I am very seriously, Mr. Stark."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

I look at him sharply, and Mr. Stark's eyes are hard. "Why?"

"When he was being arrested the idiot managed to hit his head. Several times. I wouldn't be surprised if his memory is a little foggy after that. If not, I'll take care of it. No one else is finding out who you are, kid."

Ice skitters down my spine. This is a darker side of Mr. Stark I am unused to seeing. I'm not quite sure how I feel about it, but I can't deny that I am relieved my secret is safe. That Aunt May is safe.

Oh. Oh _shit._

"Aunt May-"

"Is totally fine, and I mean that in _every_ sense of the word. She's at home, under the impression that I stole you away from your homecoming dance in order to offer you your internship back and take you on another retreat. Weirdest thing, she gave me the strangest impression that she doesn't like me. No idea where that's coming from."

I relax. Thank God. Despite everything I got myself into, Aunt May is safe, and it sounds like my identity might be too. I didn't totally ruin everything.

"Kid…Peter," Mr. Stark says my name heavily, looking weary and suddenly much older than he is. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let this happen. I shouldn't have taken your suit."

That I didn't see coming. "Yeah, you should've. I mean-I wish you hadn't. But I deserved that. I screwed up. It was a good call."

"Yeah, I thought so too until my plane went down in flames, and all Happy was able to find among my equipment and the wreckage were the remnants of a fight and your _mask_ half buried in the sand next to your blood. And if that wasn't bad enough, when we tried to track your phone, we found it completely demolished at the wreckage site, and hey, we couldn't track your suit because I took it away from you. So while you were busy getting the absolute _shit_ beaten out of you, I was here twiddling my thumbs like some idiot because I had no way of finding you," Mr. Stark falls heavily into his chair and rubs his hand down his face. He looks so guilty, so worn out.

"It's okay, Mr. Stark. Really. I'm ok."

"Don't. Don't give me that crap. Do you want me to list your injuries? The list would fall to the damn floor."

"Um, no. I'd rather you didn't," I reply. "Look, it was my fault this happened, not yours. If I had listened to you in the first place and let the FBI handle it, you wouldn't have had to take the suit, and maybe Toomes would have been dealt with and none of this would have happened. There was a lot I could have done differently. Maybe things you could have done differently too. But it doesn't matter because it happened. It's done. Can't we just…forget about it?"

"Do you want to forget?"

Toomes's face looms over me, his sweat covered face twisted in fury as he raises a jagged metal shard, ready to carve something else into my chest.

I shudder, and note distantly that a monitor is beeping from my increased heartbeat.

"Yes," I say. "More than anything."

"Well I can tell you from experience that that's not gonna work. You're not going to forget. And if you try, it's just going to screw you up more. Trust me," Mr. Stark says, leaning forward. "I'm not saying you have to talk about what happened right now. But eventually, with someone you trust."

I nod, but promise nothing.

He sighs heavily. "Not quite the homecoming you were expecting, huh kid?"

I let out a short laugh. "You can say that."

"Mine was terrible."

I give him a look. "Was your date's dad a supervillain who found out your secret identity and proceeded to drop a building on you and pummel you to a pulp?"

"No, it was her mom," Mr. Stark gives me a tight smile and a wink.

I roll my eyes and laugh, my sore muscles contracting painfully at the movement.

A series of muffled beeps sounds, and Mr. Stark pulls a phone from his pocket. He stares at it with a frown before sighing and returning it to his jacket. "Duty calls, kid. I gotta step out for a bit, take care of a few things, but I'll be back, I promise."

"Ok, yeah," I nod, trying not to look phased. The last thing I want is to be alone right now, but there's no way in hell I'm going to tell Mr. Stark that and cling to him like a little kid. Not after all he's done.

"Want another hit of the good stuff before I go? You're looking a little pale," Mr. Stark says with another frown.

"Nah, I'm good. Any more drugs, and I might get really loopy, and no one wants that," I say with a tight smile.

He gazes at me for a moment, his eyes searching with an unreadable look on his face. He sighs softly. "Rest up, kid. Hopefully this won't take long. Otherwise Happy may bore you to death."

"Was that really necessary? I'm standing right here," scowls Happy from the doorway.

"Were you? Didn't notice."

"Sure, boss."

Mr. Stark hesitates, then ruffles my hair awkwardly, his small smile still not quite meeting his eyes. "You two have fun. Don't let Happy have any of your drugs."

"Oh for crying out lou-"

I chuckle as Mr. Stark sweeps from the room, and a disgruntled Happy Hogan stalks in, hands in his pockets. He shoots a dark look at the now empty doorway before shaking his head and looking me over.

"How you doin kid?"

"Hey Happy. I'm okay. I'm…really glad you're here," I admit. "Sorry about moving day."

"You're kidding, right? Do you know how screwed I would be if you hadn't done what you did?" Happy takes Mr. Stark's seat, his hands clasped over his stomach. "Seriously, I want to say thank you. And I also want to say how sorry I am."

Looks like everyone's apologizing today. It's more than a little bizarre.

"If I had listened to you, taken your friend's call, this might not have happened," he says, regret lining his face and voice. "That was a shitty thing to do, and I promise, it won't happen again. You call, I answer."

"Even if it's just to say a lady bought me a churro?"

"Even then," Happy smirks. "Can't promise I won't be annoyed, but I do promise I will always answer, kid. Alright?"

"Ok" I nod. "Deal."

At this point, my eyes have grown so heavy, I can barely keep them open. I now feel more heavy than light, and though I try and fight it, all my body wants to do is sleep.

"It's ok, kid. You can sleep. I'll be right here," Happy says.

"I'm tired of sleeping. Feel like all I've been doing lately is going unconscious," I reply, and then promptly yawn.

"Yeah, well sleep isn't tired of you. Get some rest, you need it. That's an order."

I sigh, my eyes already betraying me and falling shut. "Fine, fine."

I have a ways to go before I recover, and even longer before I think I can process what's happened to me. I know there will be nightmares to face and more enemies to fight, but I also know I have people who have my back, who came for me when I called.

Besides, I'm Spider-man.

And Spider-man can face anything.

* * *

 _Author's note: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed! It's a short little story that's kind of pointless, but it was fun to write out an alternate direction for the movie. I hope you all liked it, and make sure you follow me, I might have a few more Spider-man stories coming up in the future. By the way, if you are looking for a REALLY amazing Spider-man fic that's much more in depth and overall more awesome than this one, I highly recommend PippinStrange's Down Came the Rain. Seriously, it's the best one out there._


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